


In Which John and Dave Meet in a Little Coffee Shop and All the Little Things Suddenly Matter

by SuperFreakeh



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperFreakeh/pseuds/SuperFreakeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert is wonderful and simple and intriguing.<br/>Dave Strider is unique and simple and comfortable. </p>
<p>You want to know more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which John and Dave Meet in a Little Coffee Shop and All the Little Things Suddenly Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! SuperFreakeh here. I've previously uploaded stuff on my FF account but I go on here more. I've been on this site for a while now, but something in the Christmas air made me want to write about boys in cozy coffee shops. So here's to whatever this qualifies as. Merry Christmas, and Chill! -SF

His smile catches your eye.  
It's his aloof, hidden gaze. 

The way he talks to others, makes pleasant conversation with the barista.  
The way he holds himself, apart from the others yet just as involved in the world as they.

He notices you. Oh shit.  
Crap, he sees you!

Hold yourself together, Strider. You've dealt with tougher, more handsome cookies than this tool.  
Hey now, Egbert, no need to get your panties in a bunch. He will probably look over you. 

He doesn't make a move...should you be worried? Intimidated? Jesus Crust on a cracker it's steamier than Satan's personal hot tub in this coffee joint.  
Is he just going to...stand there? The scene is making you a little uncomfortable. Why do you have to be caught up in some stranger while the other customers go on with their day?

Maybe he's an okay guy. Maybe you'll make a good first impression on him. Only one way to find out, right?  
Oh shit oh shit oh shit everything your father has taught you has flown the coop and is heading due south on a one-way trip to cluelessville. He's coming your way. 

He freezes up visibly in front of you. You stop a few feet shy of the coffee he clutches in his hands.  
You--you can't say, think, or do anything. You're frozen. 

You wonder briefly what to say to him. Bro taught you (indirectly, of course) everything you needed to know about hitting it off with girls. College-age guys were another story, one you never really bothered to read up on.  
Um, what to say? This guy, this rather stunning individual has approached you. You've been approached like this approximately never before in your life. What would Colonel Sassacre do...?

You know what, you've been standing awkwardly here long enough. People will think you're out to kidnap the poor bastard.  
Screw it, you think. The Colonel would likely pull a fast one on this guy so that's exactly what you intend to do. 

"Do you like sports?" Men liked sports, right?  
"What do you call the father of all corny jokes?" A nice to joke to size him up should do the trick, right?

"What."  
"What?"

You're silent for a moment. His voice is gentle but in this case it is full of hurry. But never mind that, did he just try to tell you a fucking joke?  
You both fall quiet. What was it he had asked? If you like sports? Son, does this bod look like it enjoys mass amounts of physical activity? Or even enjoys watching the stuff?

"Um..." You struggle for words. Just finish the joke! a silent voice tells you.  
"Heh." Should you answer truthfully, or is he looking for a guy who genuinely likes sports? Bah, just answer!

"I don't know."  
"Not really."

Shit.  
You both speak at once. 

You clear your throat, giving him time to speak his claim. But really, could this get any more awkward?  
Thank heavens you're in the back of the shop, you think. He clears his throat and you cautiously decide to repeat, "Not really. Don't really care for them."

You nod. It was a stupid question anyways. "Me neither," you tell him, your voice warmer than you actually intended and possessing traces of relief.  
You chuckle at this. Oh, so he was just as nervous as you. There's a start to be found in all this. "I'm John."

"Sup." You don't miss a beat. "I'm Dave, and I really want to finish that joke of yours."  
Really? He wants to hear your joke? Well, he asked for it... "What do you call the father of all corny jokes?" 

You purposely let some emotion scrunch up your features behind your shades. "Uh, 'A terrible parental figure'? Probably?" Man, your guesses suck today.  
You snicker. Oh boy, here it comes. "Pop corn!" you announce, and he just stares. 

"...that was possibly the worst joke I've ever heard in my entire life and I regret the life decision I made to actually try to guess that thing."  
"But you totally did! And shut up, it's a great corny joke. It got us to talk, after all."

You roll your eyes behind your shades and sip your coffee. "Yeah, so if our kids ever wanna know how Dave and Daddy met, we can just tell them the joke until they go insane from trying to understand its deep complexities. Next thing you know, our babies will skip out in the night to start an emo band or trek across the Alaskan wilderness. Anything to get away from that terrible joke. But it keeps happening, and it'll follow them the rest of their lives until they grovel to Pop Corn himself and try to win back the souls they lost all those years ago. Moral of the story: you shouldn't tell jokes like that, John. Shit might hurt our future kids. You want them to have souls, don't you? Good fucking lord, everyone knows what kind of nasty person Pop Corn is, taking hold of kids in the first place like they were Halloween candy for the taking, the good kind, like the kind where the bowl is just left sitting out..."  
Wow, he sure talks a lot, doesn't he? That's fine with you; you love a good story and are told by your friends that you're an amazing listener. Look how well this chance meeting is turning out already!

Okay, maybe you said a little too much there because he's looking at you through shining and too-blue eyes that are oblivious to the coffee shop ruckus around them. You give his forehead a knock, never being particularly good with personal boundaries. "Hello? John, I think? Is there any brain activity going on up there or am I gonna have to get a paramedic up in this bitch?"  
You snap out of it. His lips just move so gracefully from one syllable to the next! You wonder if he can speak in other languages... Oh, but he's hitting you on the forehead ow. You rub gently at the abused area and respond, "Nah, don't wanna cause a scene for you, Dave."

You smile inwardly. Your name sounds so perfect coming from him.  
This cool guy probably thinks he's hiding that smile of his, but you can detect it. It's subtle and beautiful. You look around for an open couch near the front of the shop and tug lightly at his coat sleeve. "Want to sit down and chat a while?" you ask. 

You're shocked. Cool it, Strider. Don't get flustered now. You're only about to talk to your soul mate, you're sure of it. You hide all of your thoughts, grumbling a little but letting him drag you to a love seat near the bright windows of the shop entry.  
He lets you drag him along. You two proceed to talk about anything and everything and end up buying three more coffees each to keep you there. 

A barista, different from the one who took your first order from the afternoon, taps you on the shoulder and tells you they're about to close up shop. You hadn't even noticed. John Egbert, while a dork, is an incredibly interesting person who makes you feel like the time could slip away and you'd be content with it all.  
Dave Strider, you learned, is totally not cool and aloof like you at first thought, but insightful and colorful. He makes you feel like you have the inspiration to write and make and say a million beautiful things and you wouldn't even have to lift a finger. 

John Egbert is wonderful and simple and intriguing.  
Dave Strider is unique and simple and comfortable. 

You want to know more.  
You want to know more. 

You get his phone number as well as his chumhandle. Figures that two random strangers would happen to both be members of possibly the geekiest niche site ever.  
You get his number and chumhandle. He mentions something about irony being the reason he signed up with the website but you think you're starting to read him well enough to know the irony is actually a genuine like for Pesterchum. 

You part. You turn your back and walk into the shadows cast by signs and stores. You can't stop thinking about blue eyes and a cheeky grin and a way of speaking that leaves you breathless and wanting to tell him more.  
You bask in the glow of the moon, heading in an opposite direction. You're tempted to look back at him, but nah, you'll see him again. You go home unable to get your mind off of a mysterious air breached by words that fly off of a pink tongue and a dusting of freckles that sprawl over pale skin. He leaves you wanting to discover more.

You mull over the day in content and comfortable silence, safe in your apartment. You wonder what John would think of your place.  
You think about everything that's happened today, shutting the back door quietly so as to not wake your sleeping father. You wonder what Dave would think of your Dad, your house. 

You settle into peaceful sleep graced with sweet dreams of your new acquaintance.  
You drift off and are welcomed into a peaceful dream world where everything is you and Dave. 

You have a good feeling about him.  
You can just tell.


End file.
